Compilation of Short Stories

Each Broken Piece

"Each forward step we take we leave some phantom of ourselves behind." -John Lancaster 

I sipped loudly on my straw and savored the sugary soda that invaded the insides of my mouth. A song from the 60's was playing on the old boom box but nobody made an attempt at changing it; the fading color on the walls only highlighted how the passing years had affected the restaurant's history. 

"Elliot, are you planning on refilling that empty glass any time soon? You've been making sipping sounds non-stop for half an hour now." I stopped instantly, letting go of the glass, and raised my head only to meet with a pair of creamy hazel eyes. The waitress looked to be in her mid-thirties and she wore a light yellow dress with a white apron on top. Her long blonde hair cascaded in waves down her petite figure until it reached her small waist. I looked back at her smiling face, at her rosy luscious lips that brought me in without knowing. 

"Do I know you?" I asked at last. Her smile disappeared slowly, a frown taking its place. 

In a voice that was barely above a whisper, she managed to squeeze out a curt, "No. You don't mister... Now, would you still like that refill?" she asked me with fake enthusiasm. I nodded, eager to understand how she knew my name and how she managed to make me feel at ease. Her presence felt comfortable, as if I had passed a long time with her; yet, I still felt lost. 

"So, stranger, do you want to hear an interesting story?" she asked as she placed the full glass in front of me. She wiped the few droplets that managed to spill from the container with a clean cloth as she looked at me from under her full eyelashes, a look of sadness placed on her eyes. 

"Sure," I answered as I started to drink my beverage. She beamed at me as she pulled a stool for her to sit, the task looking difficult for her small frame. "Ok, so... where to start?" She mumbled to herself while gently rubbing her chin.

"How about the beginning? That's always a good place to start," I suggested with a shrug.

"Very well then." She cleared her throat and started, "Jane and Eli- Elijah met on a lovely spring festival barely a decade ago. Since the first time they met, they were crazy for each other. The years passed but their love for each other never faded, I even think it grew a whole lot more." Her eyes were looking at nothing in the air, a hidden glimmer of happiness showed in them.

"But, of course, their lovely loves had to be ruined somehow or another. Elijah was diagnosed with Alzheimer at the early age of twenty five. Jane and him had been together for seven years now; and oh, those years were indeed the best days of their lives."

"After every day, Elijah would come home and forget simple thoughts: washing the car, closing the windows, or maybe even feeding the dogs." The waitress managed to laugh at this point and her hearty laugh invaded the now empty diner. The song that was being played now was a calm, soothing melody that gave away a serene atmosphere.

"Then the important things started missing. Their anniversary was just another day, her birthday meant only a mark in the calendar and Jane became simply an ordinary name. Every day she had to hope with all my heart that the love of her life wouldn't forget her but her greatest fear actually came true. She was merely a step he had taken; the thing is, he kept taking steps forward while she didn't. Each forward step he took he left some phantom of himself behind, that phantom being Jane." She finished as a tear managed to roll down her face.

"So what happened with Jane?" I asked, perked up by curiosity.

She raised her head and gave me a sad smile before answering, "She started working in an old diner that had walls with fading paint and a boom box older than her grandmother just because he goes there everyday."

Realizing my own stupidity, I directed my sight at her name tag and it read with big, red letters the name Jane.

"Must have been hard for you," I whispered with a feeling of guilt.

"Why the sad face, sugar? I'm sure you couldn't have done anything," she told me but her face said otherwise. Her gaze held something in it, something I felt I knew but still didn't.

"I'm still sorry." I took out a fifty and placed it on the counter. "Here you have darling, keep the change and buy yourself something nice." Giving her a half-smile, I decided to go to the boom box and change the song to "Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles to liven up the mood. "It was a pleasure meeting you Jane, hope to see you again."

"Don't worry Elliot; I'm sure you'll come again tomorrow, just like everyday." The bell chimed as if closed behind his back, the eerie feeling he had still there.

"I love you, Elliot." Jane whispered quietly to herself back in the restaurant as she had to once again lived the same day she had lived for the eight pass years.